Stress
by MayukoSon
Summary: Sam is sick and they both know why. Takes place during Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

He woke up feeling sick to his stomach. He rolled over and saw his brother asleep in the bed next to his. Then he took a look at the clock. 3:17 am. _No wonder he's still asleep._

Feeling nauseous, Sam slid out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. He was glad his bed was the closest to it. He collapsed in front of the toilet and promptly lost what little he had to eat last night. He leaned heavily on the toilet, a mixture of weakness and a gnawing feeling that he wasn't at all finished forcing him to stay. Sure enough, he vomited again.

After a long while, when he was certain he couldn't have anything left in his stomach, he slowly lifted himself to his feet. He splashed some water on his face, rinsed his mouth out and sighed. In the mirror he could see that he looked about as bad as he felt. He also noted that he was now shivering like crazy. He could tell he had a fever, which pissed him off. How the hell did he let himself get sick?

Thinking about it, Sam knew exactly why he was sick. This sort of thing used to happen a lot when he was younger. He had a bad habit of putting his studies before his health.

Lately he'd been working non-stop to find a way out of Dean's deal. He followed every lead, read every book he could find, and exhausted all of his contacts. This didn't leave much time for sleep, as he had to do most of this when Dean was either asleep or not around. Even though his brother was no longer against breaking the deal, he still insisted that hunting came first. Besides, if Sam had to do something drastic to break the deal, he didn't want Dean to find out and try to stop him.

He rememebered the last time he was sick like this. It was when he was still at Stanford. He thought if he didn't study hard enough he'd lose his scholarship and be forced to drop out of college. If that happened he would have nowhere to go since his father had essentially kicked him out of the family. So he studied constantly, barely eating or sleeping, to make sure that didn't happen.

It wasn't long before he got sick. Lucky for him, he had Jess. She had spent all her free time taking care of him. She even skipped class just to make sure he was okay. She was such a caring person.

His chest tightened as all the memories of his dead girlfriend he had struggled to suppress filled his mind: when they first met, staying out late together, their first kiss, sharing a room together, her face, her smile… He also remembered the nightmares, or rather the visions. In them he couldn't do anything but watch as fire engulfed her and spread across the ceiling.

_Ugh. _It hurt to remember that night. The heat of the flames, her blood dripping on his face, it was all so wrong. And he could have prevented it. That was by far the worst part.

All those times he woke from a nightmare in a cold sweat he assured her nothing was wrong, and she believed him. If he hadn't been so bent on forgetting his past life and ignored his dreams then he could have warned her. He could have saved her. _It's not fair. She didn't deserve it. She didn't even know. She didn't know how dangerous it was to be close to me._

Everyone who was close to him, everyone he cared about died. Jess. His mother. Dad. And now Dean.

_Dean._ His grip tightened on the edge of the sink. The pain he felt when he thought about life without Dean was almost too much to bear. His brother was going to hell because of him. _No, no I won't let him. I didn't go to law school for nothing. If there's a way out of that deal, I'll find it. _

He promised he'd get Dean out of this. He thought things would be easier now that Dean admitted he didn't want to die. But if anything they were worse. His brother was depending on him and Sam was terrified of letting him down. The deadline was fast approaching and he was running out of options. He wasn't even sure if Ruby could help him anymore.

All these thoughts left his head pounding and his body practically screaming for rest. He decided to comply, only because it would be rather embarrassing to pass out in the bathroom. He sighed again and headed for bed, being careful not to wake Dean. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I am ashamed at how long it has taken me to put this chapter up. I had it all written down a long time ago, but after watching some episodes and reading it over again I didn't feel right about it. So I had to re-write it, which took way longer than expected. I am very sorry, this is my first fanfiction and I want it to be somewhat good.

Also, I'd like to thank everyone for all their kind and encouraging reviews. They mean a lot to me. I was really afraid of putting this up, as I have never put up a fanfiction of mine before in any site. The fact that anyone liked it at all was an extremely exciting surprise. I got way more reviews and story alerts added than expected, and after being on this site for so long as a reader, it was interesting to see the other side of it. I would have responded to each review and thanked you all personally, but I'm not sure how to do that yet. I actually had a few problems putting this chapter up to so bear with me as I struggle to learn the in and outs of this site.

Thank you all again for the reviews, the alerts, and just anyone who took the time to read this. You don't know how much it means to me. I doubt this chapter was worth the wait, but here it is. I hope to get the next few out before the gut-wrenching season finale.

--

The sunlight streaming through the window finally forced him into consciousness. Dean buried his head under his pillow in a vain attempt to block out the sun and fall back asleep. He really didn't want to get up. In fact, he'd be perfectly happy to never have to get up again. Except for the whole going-to-hell thing, he still kind of liked the idea of everything being over in a few months. Of course, he'd never tell Sam that. The guy'd probably kick his ass if he heard him say that. Well, he'd try. _In your dreams, Sammy._

He grinned as memories of childhood scuffles came to mind, of which he was always the winner. They were pretty evenly matched now, but he was confident he could still take his little brother down. _Even if he is freakishly tall._

Speaking of Sam… "Did you get me some coffee?" he called from under his pillow. Lately, Sam had been getting up early and Dean had gotten used to waking up to see him already messing around with his laptop, usually with breakfast.

After getting no response he grudgingly pushed himself up and looked over at the lump he assumed was his brother in the next bed. He considered a couple of fun ways to wake him up, but decided to let him sleep. He had the sneaking suspicion that the reason his brother was always up so early was because he wasn't sleeping again.

He was worried, but every time he asked Sam if he was all right he was met with an angry "Why are you always asking me that?" So he kept quiet and tried to tell himself everything would work out. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Otherwise the fear would overcome him and he couldn't let that happen, not now or ever.

He hated feeling this way. He hated how weak he was, how useless he felt. He wouldn't even be able to fight in this war much longer. He was powerless to save himself and it sucked. In a few months, he would be in hell and Sam would be alone.

He had to stop thinking about this. They were in the middle of hunt. A demon was in town and they were going to exorcise it. Low-level demon, shouldn't be too hard. Enough to get his mind off things. So he went through his morning routine, feeling a little better knowing he had a hunt lined up.

He was annoyed to find Sam still in bed when he was finished.

"Wake up." Sam was usually a light sleeper and Dean wasn't exactly quiet. Was he really that tired? _He has seemed a bit off lately. And he went to sleep pretty early last night…_

"Come on Sam, wake up," he tried again. "You can't just quit on me during a hunt. You should've told me if you were sick or better yet don't get sick. You're such a pain in the ass. Are you listening to me?" He kicked the bed, assuming Sam would at least get up long enough to retaliate. He stirred, but didn't get up.

The lack of response was getting to him and he was about to resort to drastic measures when he finally heard Sam's muffled response from underneath the covers. "Mom…"

Dean stared blankly at the bed. "That ain't funny Sam."

"Mom," he heard his brother mumble pathetically again.

"You're starting to freak me out. Wake up, come on. You're having a nightmare or something." Dean went over to uncover his little brother and was taken aback by his appearance.

The kid looked awful. There were dark rings under his eyes, his hair was matted with sweat, and his face was devoid of color. He checked to see if he had a temperature and his forehead practically burned his hand. How the hell did Sam manage to get this sick without Dean noticing?

_Wait._ They'd been splitting up a lot recently, but Dean didn't think much it until now. He was a little preoccupied thinking about his impending doom. Sam must've been trying to find a way out of the deal, while trying to keep up with all the hunts Dean had been lining up. _Damn it, Sam you idiot._

He pulled off the covers with Sam still muttering weakly. He didn't seem to be awake, which worried him. He didn't need a thermometer to know his temperature was dangerously high. Dean tried to remember what his dad used to do when they got sick like this.

Sam especially used to get fevers a lot when he was a kid, probably because he tried so hard to get good grades. Dean still didn't know how he managed that grade point average while still doing every hunt Dad made him go on. Dean did the absolute minimum to pass. He thought hunting was much more important. Math wasn't going to stop a demon from killing you, so why make yourself sick learning it?

But he had to admit, he was proud of the kid. Not only was he crazy smart, but he was a damn good hunter too. He was confident Sam could make it without him. Hell, he was doing just fine before Dean dragged him into all this.

He heaved a huge sigh and headed for the bathroom. In a moment he was back with a damp towel, hoping to at least keep Sam's fever from getting any worse. Sam barely reacted as Dean placed the towel on his forehead, his eyes still tightly shut in a fitful sleep.

Dean decided it was time to take a trip to the pharmacy. He'd rather not leave his sick brother alone but he had little choice. After placing salt lines across the one window and one door in the tiny motel room, he grabbed his wallet and jacket and headed out the door. Before he locked up the room he took one last look at his baby brother and sighed again. He hoped he'd be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay so I said I'd have this out by Thursday, and technically it's Friday. My bad. I wrote most of this a long time ago, and was halfway done rewriting when the season finale came on and effectively consumed my life for the night. Somehow I was able to come back and finished this chapter. It was really hard to write and I'm not sure if it's any good or if it makes sense. It looked cool in my head. It's late and I haven't looked it over as thoroughly as I usually do, but here you go.

Warning: Some foul language is used.

--

He felt like he was on fire. He couldn't tell where he was. It certainly wasn't the motel room he fell asleep in. He vaguely wondered if he was dreaming. All he knew for certain was that he felt horrible and he wanted very badly to rest.

He began walking through what seemed like an open field. It was night, still so dark he could barely see his surroundings. He walked on aimlessly, finally stopping when he saw a figure blocking path.

"Hello?" he called out cautiously.

"I'm sorry," a gruff, somewhat familiar voice answered.

He stepped forward for a closer look and there stood the young soldier he knew as Jake standing before him, clad in the same camouflage uniform he met him in.

"No. You're-"

"I liked you, I really did. But I had to do it. It was the only way I'd get a shot at the bastard that did this to us. Only one of us could make it. I'm sorry."

Looking at Jake again, the cause for all his current turmoil, he expected to feel the overwhelming hate he remembered feeling that night at the cemetery. But he didn't.

No, looking at Jake now, all he saw was a man. A man trying to do what he thought was right, just trying to survive.

Before Sam could say anything Jake fell backwards, two bloody holes appearing by his shoulder. Sam watched as he gasped and clutched at his wound.

"No, no, please," Jake pleaded between gasps, shaking his head in denial. Trembling, Sam realized what was happening. _He's reliving his death. When I murdered him._

More holes appeared on the already bloody body, 1-2-3-4. The sight made Sam want to vomit. He remembered this scene exactly. And the scariest part, was remembering how satisfying it was.

Jake wasn't some monster he was hunting. The guy may have killed him, but there were extreme circumstances. He was a human being, someone just like him who had the misfortune of being a pawn in a very dangerous game. He shouldn't have had to die, not like that.

_What's wrong with me?_ Sam didn't know what was worse, the thought of coming back wrong, or that perhaps killing Jake was part of whom he really was, who he's meant to be.

The body was no longer there, disappeared into the dark depths. "I'm sorry," Sam spoke to the spot on the ground. "I know it wasn't your fault."

"It's all right sweetheart."

Sam stiffened at the voice. He looked up from the spot where Jake died, right into his mother's eyes.

"M-mom?" She smiled sadly at him. He'd imagined meeting his mother a million times. Dad and Dean, the few times they talked to him about her, always said how wonderful she was. He wanted to say so many things. But then he remembered what the demon said, what Ruby said.

_She walked in on us. Wrong place wrong time…It wasn't about her, it was about you. It's always been about you._

_Don't you get it, Sam? It's all about you. What happened to your mom, what happened to her friends, they're trying to cover up what he did to you._

It was his fault his mother was dead. If it weren't for him, his mom and dad and Dean could be living a happy life right now.

"I don't blame you," his mother said as if reading his thoughts. _But you should, _he couldn't help thinking. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Sam couldn't understand. Why was she sorry? He looked at her, dressed in a white nightgown, the same way she looked when…

_Oh God no! _Sam just noticed where they were. The nursery. _His _nursery.

"Mom!" It was too late. She was thrust back into the wall, whimpering as her body unwillingly ascended to the ceiling. She screamed as a gash opened up her stomach, and Sam turned away as fire burst out, and when he looked back she was gone.

"Mom…" He fell to his knees, despair and guilt filling him. He was utterly powerless to save her.

"She's gone."

The voice shook him out of his stupor. Sam twisted around and saw her, not two feet away from him.

"Hey Sam."

"Jess…" It was her, it was definitely her. Jessica. _His_ Jessica.

"I knew you'd crash and burn without me." She grinned, the grin he knew all to well.

Sam slowly rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off her. They were back in the room they shared and everything was exactly the way he remembered it. At that moment he wanted it all to be real. _Please God let this be real._

"I missed you so much. God, I missed you." He couldn't stop looking at her. She looked so beautiful in her white nightgown, her long, blonde hair flowing past her shoulders. He wanted to hold her in his arms again and never, ever, let go. He took a step toward her but she pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Worry began to grow as he examined her.

"You know I can't stay." She smiled sadly, the same smile his mother gave him.

"No. No, no, no you can't leave. We're finally together again." Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this wasn't real, that he was knee-deep in denial, but he couldn't let her leave again. He wouldn't.

"I'm sorry," she started but he wouldn't let her finish.

"No. I'll protect you." _I can save her. I know I can this time._ "I'll never let anything hurt you." He reached out to touch her but he never got close enough. In a blink of an eye she was gone and he found himself lying in bed. _No no no no no. _He snapped his head up and saw her. He was back in hat old dream. Blood dripped onto his face. Her blood. _Oh God..._

"No!" The fire started around her and quickly spread to engulf the room. Sam felt the heat as it crept toward him, but he couldn't move, he couldn't take his eyes off her. _This is a nightmare. It's just another nightmare, right? _He shut his eyes, hoping to wake up and not have to her like that any longer. _Let me wake up. Please let me wake up._

"I'm sorry son." Sam's eyes snapped open. The bed was gone and his father was sitting in a chair in front of him. When their eyes met his fathered continued. "You know I would have given anything to keep that from happening to you too."

"Dad." By now he felt completely drained. A lumped formed in his throat but he tried hard no to cry. _Not in front of Dad._

"I tried. After your mom…everything was so damn hard. But I only wanted what was best for you two. I wanted you to be strong, to be able to take care of yourself. But I know that somewhere down the line I stopped being your father. For that I'm sorry."

"No Dad, I'm sorry. I know you did your best. You were a good father. I love you Dad. I want you back. We need you back." Sam couldn't take this much longer. He couldn't take his father looking so defeated.

His dad smiled sadly, that same damn smile he'd been seeing all night. "I can't kiddo."

"Please Dad! Don't leave, please! Dean needs you, _I _need you!" He knew he wasn't getting through. "Please," his voice now barely above a whisper.

Even though he was expecting it, watching his father fall broke him. The man that used to tuck him in at night, that used to protect him from the monsters, the superhero. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. He wanted to believe so badly that his father could survive anything. He never quite got over the shock of finding his father on the hospital floor that day. Losing Dad was about the hardest thing he had to go through.

"Sucks don't it Sammy." Dean grinned at him, that stupid grin he used whenever he was trying to hide something horrific from him. He was always trying to protect him from something. _That jerk. Wait, if Dean was here that means…_ With that realization Sam's eyes widened in fear, and his whole body began to shake.

"Ah come on, don't look at me like that. You know why I did this. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job."

"Fuck that! Damn it Dean, I can't let you do this, I can't!"

"You'll be okay without me Sam."

"No! Not you Dean please not you," Sam begged between sobs. He was frantic to keep this from happening.

"Sorry Sammy. I truly am." Dean continued to grin that horrible, sad grin, even as the blood started flowing down his face and poured out his eyes.

All Sam could do was scream.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm extremely sorry for again taking so long to update. I blame part of it on school. Stressing over finals left me feeling sick myself, so some of this chapter is from personal experience. Thankfully, school ended on the 13th. The rest was just me being a horribly slow writer. This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I was constantly rewriting because I wasn't satisfied with what I wrote. Finally forced myself to finish. Not sure if it's good enough, but it's the best I can do.

Thanks again for all the reviews, they really keep me going. Now that school's out I will try hard to update regularly. I very much appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read this story. I hope you all enjoy.

--

His snap to reality was marked by a sudden trip to the floor. Gasping for breath he quickly took in his surroundings. Relief came with the realization that he was in the same tiny motel room he remembered falling asleep in. _Just a nightmare, _he told himself, _just a very intense nightmare. _Even as he calmed down, he couldn't stop shaking. The details from the nightmare were faded, but the feelings lingered. He knew as soon as he closed his eyes it would return. That's how it always was.

His stomach churned painfully, forcing him to climb to his feet and head for the bathroom. There was no way he had anything left in him to vomit but his stomach didn't seem to care as he dry heaved into the toilet, eyes tearing up in the process. His forehead was on fire and his body ached all over. Not to mention it felt like someone was continually punching him in the gut.

Doubled over with pain, he tried some breathing exercises. Anything that might help, he was willing to do. Mostly, he just wanted to curl up on the floor and never get up again.

On top of all that, he felt this pit in his stomach, like something was missing. Like he was still in one of his horrible nightmares.

Just then a sound echoed through the bathroom, so soft he wasn't sure he heard it. But it was enough to pique his hunter instincts. It came again, louder this time. _Sounds like…laughter? Shit, something's here._

His first thought was he needed a weapon. Quickly he searched the bathroom for anything he could use. His body was so weak he could barely keep upright and the more he moved, the more his vision blurred. The fever was working its magic. But he had to keep it together.

_Focus! Intruder, need weapon._ His eyes stopped on the cracked bathroom mirror. He slammed his fist against it until a large shard came off. Good enough.

Then he saw them, reflected off the glass. Yellow eyes. He whirled around to face him, grabbing the shard at the same time. He didn't notice or care that the glass was cutting into his skin. Holding his defensive stance, he faced the yellow eyed demon, still inhabiting the same body they killed him in.

The demon looked delighted to see him, which of course pissed Sam off. "Surprised to see me I take it? Yes, yes, I know. That gun killed me. Unfortunate really." He sighed as if mourning a lost toy, rather than his life.

"Then how…?"

"How am I here? Figment of your imagination, hallucination, whatever you want to call it. Face it Sammy, you can't get rid of me, no matter how hard you try." He grinned, giving Sam the once over. "You're looking much more pathetic these days, and that's saying something. Even if I were alive, what exactly were you planning to do with that?"

Sam glanced briefly at the weapon in question. He knew that it was useless against a demon, even more useless against an imagined demon if that was indeed the case. But it was his only weapon and it made him feel better so he was not letting it go.

"Screw you. You're not even here."

"Oh, but I am. You and I are connected. Have been since those days in your nursery. You would've been better off joining me and you know it. Everyone would have been better off. Your brother would still be alive and you wouldn't be alone, dying of what seems to be guilt, of all things."

_What? _"My brother isn't dead."

The demon raised his eyebrows. "You really still believe that?"

"It's the truth." Sam's patience was running low. He couldn't stand those yellow eyes gleaming in front of him. Hate filled him and he gripped the glass in his hand even harder, ignoring the blood flowing through his fingers. "And I'm done listening to a damn hallucination."

"Denial isn't going to bring your brother back," the demon responded, grinning smugly.

"My brother is _not_ dead!" Sam yelled adamantly.

"Then where is he?"

Sam stared blankly back, no answer coming. He felt the pit in his stomach again. Flashes of his nightmare came back to him, flashes of Dean, of him…bleeding_. So much blood. _He was shaking again, suddenly terrified. The demon dissipated as he moved to push open the bathroom door.

"Dean?" Even he could hear the desperation in his voice but he didn't care. At this point, he would welcome any taunts his brother had to throw at him. Only he wasn't there. He could see the room was empty from the doorway.

Frantically, Sam tried to remember the last time he saw him but his brain was fried from the fever. All he could remember was the nightmare.

_This is crazy. Dean is not dead. _There were two beds. Surely that meant Dean was here with him before.

"Does it?" Sam whirled around, expecting to be faced with yellow eyes once again. But instead all he saw was himself, a living reflection. Sam leaned back against the bathroom wall, too shocked to say anything, as his reflection began to speak once again.

"Remember the trickster? Remember how you were after Dean died? You couldn't let go. Well this is it. He never came back. That was all in your head. This is your reality."

"Stop it. That's not true." Sam remembered all too well the time he spent without Dean. It hadn't been very long since it happened. Not that he could ever forget; it was the worst time in his life. He swore to himself he'd do whatever he could to prevent that from ever happening again. To have to go through that again was his worst fear and it was the reason he'd started researching so hard in the first place.

"You cracked," his reflection continued. "You couldn't cope so you pretend that he's back, you get a room with two beds and talk as if he's here. But you're just lying to yourself. And without him, you're vulnerable. Alone and weak. It won't be long before you become this," his reflection's eyes flashed yellow and grinned. "All according to plan."

"No…" Sam moaned as he slowly slid to the floor.

"It's true and you know it. Without Dean, there's nothing stopping you from going darkside. Dad was right when he told Dean to kill you. He should have done it when he had the chance. Stop you from killing anyone else."

"Stop it, please…" he whimpered. He couldn't take his destiny constantly hanging over his shoulders. He couldn't take all the weakness, the pain, the grief, the fear. And he knew the words he was hearing were right.

Gordon's words from their last encounter came to mind: _It's just too bad you won't do the right thing and kill yourself_. That thought had come to him before, since he'd learned of what he was to become. Maybe the right thing would be to kill himself, to make sure the yellow-eyed demon's plans never came to fruition.

But he knew he could never do that, he could never leave Dean alone. Instead he only hoped that his brother would do it for him, if it ever came to that. But if Dean was really gone, what other choice did he have?

"No." he said out loud, halting his own thoughts. Laughter sounded through the room again. "Stop it!" he cried. He covered his ears and rested his burning forehead on his knees. _This can't be real. _"Wake up," he said to himself, shutting his eyes tightly. "I have to wake up."

Once closed, he found he didn't have the strength to open his eyes again. He was afraid that when he did, he'd realize that he was really all alone. And he couldn't take that. He stayed where he was, despair clutching his heart.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I apologize again for taking so long. Apparently it takes me a month to write one measly chapter. This chapter was really hard to write so I hope I did okay.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. All your kind words give me the courage to keep posting. Thanks also to all who added this story to their Alerts/Favorites and to anyone who is reading this. I hope you all enjoy.

--

Dean fumbled for his room key, trying not to drop any of the stuff he just bought. His trip took longer than expected. They'd only been in the area a day and he hadn't exactly spent time sight seeing. Besides knowing which house that demon they were hunting was staying at, he didn't know the town very well. It took a bit of aimless driving before he found a store with a pharmacy.

Lucky for him, he was able to score some prescription medicine from the pretty girl at the counter. Probably could've gotten a phone number too, but that's not what he came here for.

Dean had to admit he was a little worried. When it came to Sam, he couldn't help it. Fevers could get really bad. Sam even had to go to the hospital once for a fever when he was little… _He's fine,_ he assured himself. Hell, he was probably overacting.

Even so, he was glad to be back at the motel. He was feeling a bit guilty about leaving his sick brother alone for so long, especially since he had forgotten to leave any sort of note. _Hopefully he's still asleep._ After successfully getting the door open without dropping anything, he was pleased to see that the salt line had not been broken. He was considerably less pleased when he saw that Sam's bed was empty.

"Sam?" he called out, checking the salt line at the window which was also intact. "Sammy?" The bathroom door was half open, which he figured meant it was empty. _Besides, if he was in there he would've answered. Shit, he wouldn't leave, would he?_ The last thing Sam needed was to be outside making himself sicker.

As he stepped further into the room, he caught sight of the broken mirror in the bathroom. But it was the drops of blood on the tile floor that made his stomach turn. _Oh God... _

"Sam?" he called slowly once more, already pulling out his gun. What the hell could've happened? He found himself hoping Sam wasn't here, because if he was and he wasn't answering…

Cautiously, he let his gun lead the way as he stepped into the bathroom, fearing the worst. What he saw was his little brother huddled up and shivering in the corner. "Sam?" he said softly, lowering his weapon.

There was no answer, but he was just relieved that Sam was here and still breathing. He grimaced, however, when he noticed the glass. _Well that explains the mirror. _Judging by the state of the bathroom and Sam, he guessed that the fever got worse.

Dean knelt down in front of his brother, unsure what to do. The way he looked, Dean couldn't help but see a five year old Sammy, hiding from the monster under his bed. Back then, he'd always been able to calm Sam down. Never understood why, but he hoped that it still held true.

"Hey, you hearing me?" he asked quietly as he reached out to wake him. As soon as he touched him Sam spasmed awake, scaring the hell out of both of them. _Great start, _Dean thought sarcastically.

"Wha…D-Dean? Are you really here?" Sam stuttered, staring at him like he was some sort of ghost.

"Yeah, yeah 'course I'm here. Why wouldn't I be?" Dean replied smiling, hoping his demeanor would calm Sam down.

It didn't. "No, no you're not here, you weren't here, the demon, it said you weren't…" Sam rambled, shutting his eyes and covering his face, his breathing getting more erratic.

"Sam, Sam look at me." He pulled away Sam's arms, revealing the scared, pale face behind them. "Breathe." Dean held on to his brother's trembling shoulders, repeating his command until Sam obeyed.

"Listen to me," he said slowly, staring straight into those brown eyes. "I put out salt lines, there's no way a demon was here, okay? You're sick and you had a nightmare, or hallucination or something. But I'm here now all right? And I'm not going anywhere. You understand?" Sam stared back at him dully. "Sam!" he yelled, shaking him. Sam nodded. "Good. Now," Dean started, his eyes locked on the glass in his brother's tight grip, "can you give that to me?"

At first, Sam just stared blankly at him again, as if he was completely unaware of the glass currently cutting into his hand. Eventually he understood and both of them grimaced as he carefully loosened his hold on the shard and let Dean take it from him.

"Thank you." Dean threw the shard away and snatched a hand towel hanging on the wall. Quickly, he wrapped it around his brother's bleeding hand, then grabbed Sam's good hand and placed it on top of the towel. "Okay now hold this. I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna go get something to fix your hand," he explained, unconsciously slipping into the old big brother tone he used to use when Sam was little.

A nod came in reply and Dean swiftly left to retrieve his newly acquired medication and to dig out the first aid kit from the duffel under his bed. Upon return he handed Sam some pills and a glass of water. "Take it. It'll make you feel better." Sam did so without complaint. In fact he didn't so much as lift his head, even when Dean started tending to the wound.

He was wrapping the bandage when Sam finally spoke. "Sorry."

The sudden apology surprised him, but Dean didn't think much of it. "Don't worry about it," he replied offhandedly, finishing up the bandage.

"No. I'm sorry. For everything."

"What're you talking about?"

"You know." Dean stared at him questioningly, but Sam didn't look up. "Mom…Dad… Jess. Everyone. They're all dead 'cause of me. And now you…it's my fault."

"Sam, you don't know what you're saying. Now come on, let's-"

"You shouldn't be here!" The outburst shocked Dean into silence. Sam was staring right at him now, eyes blazing. "Not like this," he continued, dropping his gaze again. "You should be somewhere better. Mom and Dad should be alive. You all could've been happy together…if it wasn't for me. And there'd be no deal…"

"Sam-"

"Stupid. It was stupid. Should've left me dead." Sam laughed bitterly. "What's dead should stay dead, right?"

Dean flinched at those words and his brother's harsh tone. He shook his head. "Not this time."

"Why not?" Sam looked up to meet his gaze. "The world would be better off. I'm the evil one, remember? It's my fucking destiny."

This already unpleasant conversation was taking a turn for the worst. "Dude you still believe in that shit? Just because some damn demons said so? Give me a break." He tried to stay positive and keep Sam off this subject. He wasn't about to let on that he was worried about the same thing.

"I'm trying, man. I keep trying to find a way out for you. But I don't know if..." he broke off, neither of them wanting that sentence finished.

Then suddenly Sam looked up. "You can break it, can't you?" Dean's eyes widened at the thought. "I mean, you made the deal, so you can break it right?" _No. _No way. No way was he risking it. It's not like he wasn't afraid; hell, he was getting more terrified by the day. But he wasn't backing out. Not now, not ever.

He shook his head. "No, I can't. You know I can't."

"Please Dean, please!" Sam grabbed him, frantic now, "You have to! I don't care if I die! Please you can't go you can't!"

"Shut up Sam! Please, just…shut up." It hurt watching his brother fall apart like this. Especially when he knew it was his fault. Sam let him go and turned away. Dean didn't know what to do, what he could do to make this better. Tears were stinging his own eyes but he wouldn't let them fall. _Keep it together. For him._

"Okay, come on," Dean said finally, grabbing Sam and hoisting him to his feet. The kid was so weak he was practically dead weight. "We're getting you to bed, you tall-ass freak."

It was slow going but luckily they didn't have far to travel. Still, Sam was about ready to pass out by the time they reached his bed.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "And sorry I got sick." His voice sounded hollow and sad. Dean dismissed the apology and started toward his own bed. "You don't have to," Sam suddenly spoke again and Dean stopped to hear him out. "You know…take care of me. You shouldn't. After everything, you should hate me."

"Hate you?" The idea was so absurd to him he almost laughed. "Man your fever must be worse than I thought if you think that." Sam still looked unconvinced, and Dean wondered how he could really believe such a thing. "You're my brother Sammy. Without you I don't know what I would've done. I know you kept me and Dad going, even through the shittiest times. And you're… well, you're you. How the hell could I hate you?" He grinned and and was happy to see Sam give a weak smile in return. "Go to sleep dude."

Dean went to his own bed and watched his little brother curl up and instantly fall asleep. _Drugs should be kicking in, just needs rest,_ he tried to assure himself. But that worried feeling wouldn't go away. No, that gnawing in his gut was stronger than ever.

One more year. All he'd wanted was one more year with that shaggy haired kid he grew up with, and for the kid to have a future. He wanted him to have everything he deserved. But he screwed up. All he brought was pain. _I'm sorry Sammy._


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: If I still have some readers left, I'm sorry for such infrequent updates and thank you for your patience. I'm not so good at this yet, but I'm trying my best. There's still about 3 or 4 more chapters left to this story. A huge thank you to every one who left a review, I loved hearing such kind, encouraging words from my readers. Thank you also to anyone and everyone who takes the time to read this. You all keep this story going. I hope you enjoy.

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There isn't much to do in a motel room. Dean had learned that sad fact of life a long time ago. But he wasn't about to leave, not again anyway. Not until he knew Sam was getting better.

It was a tiny room and sort of run-down, but it did have the advantage of having a small television. So he got back in bed, took out his music, turned on the TV.

While watching day-time television was never fun, watching it muted with an added Metallica soundtrack made it at least tolerable. Still, he was itching to go out and kill that demon. _Calm down, that's how we got in this mess in the first place._

If he hadn't been so focused on hunting, he may have noticed what was up with Sam sooner. This was worse than the time he found out about him going after the crossroads demon. At least then he thought it was just a one time thing. It was still a stupid friggin' risk, but Sam admitted to killing her so he expected that to be the end of it.

But now, now he had no idea how long this had been going on or what the hell his brother had been getting into. It must've been going on for a while to leave his brother in this condition.

_Not to mention whatever else Sam's hiding from me. The kid's been chock full of secrets lately, hasn't he? Can't believe he never told me about Lilith…_Damn it. Just thinking about it pissed him off.

But he knew it wasn't all Sam's fault. Dean was the one who always refused to talk, especially about his deal. And he never wondered why Sam had stopped asking. It was so obvious now. He should've known he wouldn't stop trying. To be honest, he was sort of glad that his brother never gave up on him. But it didn't stop him from being pissed. _We are soo talking about this later._

By now, Dean had been in this room for the better part of the day and it was starting to get to him. Sam had spent most of the time sleeping, occasionally shifting and moaning from whatever nightmare he was having. A few times it got so bad Dean actually went over to wake him and spare him from his own subconscious. When he did wake up, Sam would be pretty out of it and usually fall back to sleep right away, leaving Dean with no other company but himself once again.

God he hated this. He hated Sam being sick because he knew there was nothing he could do for him. He couldn't make him well, and he couldn't stop the nightmares. He felt so goddamn useless, a feeling he had now become quite accustomed to. All he could do was stay here and worry. _If his fever didn't break soon…_well, Dean would feel a lot better if it did. _Come on Sammy, pull out of this already!_

Movement in the bed next to him caught his attention and pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked over he was surprised to see Sam awake, staring very intently at something on the ceiling. "Hey," he called, pulling off his earphones. Sam turned sleepily towards him, and Dean gave him a grin. "How ya feeling?"

Sam turned back to the ceiling before replying tiredly, "Great." Dean was relieved to get a response. This was definitely an improvement from the last couple of times Sam was awake, when he hadn't exactly been coherent.

"Shoulda told me you were awake." Sam mumbled a dismissal and removed the wet towel from his forehead, attempting to get up. "Dude, don't even try," Dean said, getting up himself. "You need to rest."

"Nah, I'm fine," he replied and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grunting with the effort.

"No, you're not fine and you need to rest." Dean went over to him, ready to force him back in bed if need be. But Sam stayed where he was, at the moment unable to go any farther than sitting hunched over on the side of his bed.

"Really Dean, I just overslept. I'm okay." Dean felt his forehead anyway to see for himself. As he expected it was still warm to the touch, but that his brother didn't try to turn away told him how tired he really was.

"Oh yeah I totally believe you. Having a fever is completely normal."

It seemed even Sam realized it was no use lying as he conceded the point. "All right, you win. I guess maybe I am sick."

"Glad we're on the same page. Now go back to sleep."

"I will," Sam promised as he started to get out of bed. "I'm just gonna-" he hissed in pain before he could finish, and quickly sitting back down.

"What? What's wrong?" Dean asked, instantly worried again.

"Nothing, nothing I'm fine, just my hand," Sam assured him hastily, cradling the injured appendage. Apparently he made the mistake of grabbing the nightstand for support with the wrong hand.

"Oh," Dean mumbled, feeling uncomfortable as he remembered the events of this morning.

"It's weird though, I don't remember getting this," Sam said, examining his bandaged hand.

"You don't? It just happened this morning," Dean asked, confused.

"This morning? Last thing I remember was throwing my guts up last night." Dean looked at him quizzically, not remembering _that_ at all. Sam caught the look, and realized his mistake. "Not that I was sick yesterday…" he backtracked guiltily.

Dean rolled his eyes, wondering exactly how long his brother had been sick. _I knew I heard something last night. No wonder he was so bad off this morning._ He watched Sam slowly head into the bathroom, staying close in case he needed help. He could see that he was still shivering a bit, but not nearly as bad as he was this morning.

_This morning._ Did he really not remember this morning? Dean realized he probably shouldn't be surprised; his fever was so high it probably burned a hole into his brain. It didn't matter anyway. What mattered was that Sam was getting better.

A few minutes later Sam emerged from the bathroom, gripping the door frame for support with his good hand. "What happened to the mirror?"

Dean was busy digging through the supplies he bought this morning, but glanced up briefly at the question. "I don't know. Maybe it got a look at your face." Sam gave a half-hearted fake laugh then asked again. Dean hesitated for a second, not knowing what to say. "Not sure," he replied truthfully, going back to the supplies before being slightly less truthful. "You told me this morning that it broke and you cut your hand on one of the pieces."

"Oh." Sam's eyes clouded over for a moment, and Dean wondered if he remembered. Hell, Dean wasn't too sure what happened himself. But he decided it wasn't important right now. There'd be time for questions later.

"Come on Sam, bed." His brother agreed without complaint and dragged himself to his bed. Dean stood by but knew if he tried to help he'd be shrugged off. "You need anything? Want something to eat?"

Sam shook his head, repeating that he was fine. "Take these," Dean ordered, handing him some more pills and a bottle of water, "then go back to sleep."

Again, his brother did as he was told. Dean went back to sit on his own bed, Sam turning his back to him. He rubbed a hand across his face, feeling drained. For a day full of doing nothing, it sure was exhausting.

It seemed his deal was taking its toll on both of them, and it sucked. The crossroads demon's words were always in his head, reminding him that he could do nothing to try and break it, not unless he wanted Sam dead.

So he put it out of his mind. Found cases to work instead. At least then he could do something useful. It was only after taking that dream root that he really had to face up to what was going to happen when his year was up. And it scared the shit out of him.

That was the first time he told Sam he didn't want to die, the first time he really told himself that.

It was a moment of weakness, and one he regretted. Hell, if he had it his way, Sam wouldn't even know about his deal. After that, and especially after the thing with the trickster, Sam seemed bent on researching anything and everything he thought might help, sparking many a fight between them. As much as Dean wanted the deal broken, he really didn't believe it was possible. But whenever Sam brought up a possible solution, he could feel himself start to hope. And the hoping was killing him. So he kept his focus on the hunt, praying his brother would do the same.

In hindsight, he realized his plan wasn't exactly fair to Sam. But he never meant to hurt him like this. It was just that things were so much simpler when he was hunting. On a hunt he felt strong, he felt _important_. He didn't feel like that fucking loser he saw in the mirror everyday. What they did made a difference and that was something he could get behind. Hunting was his way of escaping it all, and apparently that included his brother as well. _Oh God I've turned into Dad…Sam must hate me. _

Maybe it was time for a change. Dean didn't want to force Sam to hunt like their dad always did. If he wanted to focus on the deal, then that's what they'd do. But before that he knew he'd have to kill this demon. Sam had to focus on getting better and he knew he wouldn't if they were still in the middle of a hunt. Still, he felt weird about leaving his sick brother for a second time today. _He'll be all right, _he assured himself.

As soon as he was sure Sam was asleep, he started gearing up. When he was finished with this hunt, he'd talk to Sam. Maybe they could stop taking cases and just work on breaking the deal. For awhile at least.


	7. Chapter 7

He had it all planned out. They'd already done all the prep work and Dean was determined to finish it off tonight. Since opening the devil's gate, finding and exorcising demons had almost become routine. So Dean didn't think he was going to have much of a problem, even if he was hunting solo.

Sam was actually the one who suggested they check this place out, after noticing a few omens surrounding the town. It didn't seem that significant at first, but they were nearby and with the amount of demons around lately, they felt obligated to check it out. Sure enough, they found a few grave robberies in the past week or so. The police were baffled; they'd never seen a crime like this before in their town. Eventually they caught the guy in the act, a man named Frank Jaeger. They arrested him in the main tomb of the cemetery, though strangely he was released by the police shortly after.

While Sam followed up on the police report, Dean talked to a few of the neighbors to get some more info on the case. Frank's neighbors said exactly what he expected. He was nice guy but "all of a sudden" he started acting differently.

He didn't know what the demon was plotting, but he was going to stop it. Hopefully the demon was stupid enough to come back to the scene of the crime. Seeing as how his visit got cut short by the cops last time, there was a good chance he would. He headed to the tomb that was broken into last, a small dark building that probably housed the founders of the town or something. Dean always thought fancy graves were a huge waste of money. _Salt and burn'em that's all they really need._

With the devil's trap in place and a bottle of holy water in hand, it was only a matter of waiting for the demon to show up. He was hoping this would go smooth. Get in, exorcise, and get out.

Normally, he was glad to have the opportunity to send another demon back to hell. But it was getting late, and he was starting to wonder if Frank would show up at all. He was anxious to get this over with and get back to the motel. _This is taking too long. _

As much as he hated to admit it, he was actually feeling nervous about this. It's not like he hadn't hunted alone before, but something about this didn't feel right. He compulsively checked the devil's trap and looked over the exorcism to make sure he was prepared. He'd certainly hunted worse things then this dumb son of a bitch. _So why do I feel like I'm in over my head_?

Right then he heard a faint noise coming from outside. Like someone was trying to get in. Dean grinned, already feeling the adrenaline chase his nerves away. _There ya are Frank, right on schedule. Guess I had nothing to worry about._

By now it had gotten so dark that the room was practically pitch black when he flicked off his flashlight. Dean listened closely to Frank as he entered. He hovered around the devil's trap and waited. _Come on, come on._

He froze as he heard the demon approach. He unscrewed his bottle of holy water as quietly as possible, ready to douse the fucker as soon as he got close. It took him too long to realize that the footsteps had stopped and before he knew what was happening he was down on the ground and the bottle had flung from his hand.

He reacted more than thought, grappling with his attacker while trying to feel around for the holy water. For once luck was on his side, and he found the bottle was only inches away. Dean quickly splashed what was left of the precious liquid onto the demon face. Then he was all but forgotten on the floor as the demon tended to the more pressing matter of his face burning off, giving Dean the best opening he was going to get.

He landed a kick square in his opponent's chest, sending him backwards and closer to where he laid the devil's trap. The demon recovered quickly but Dean was already on his feet, promptly sending the demon back down to the ground, right inside the trap. "Stay down."

"All right you got me." Frank got to his feet, chuckling at his own failure. "Didn't exactly expect you to be here."

"Yeah well, I hate to be predictable," Dean grinned humorlessly. He pulled the exorcism out of his jacket pocket and prepared himself for the task at hand. He'd been trying to memorize the damn thing since that incident with Casey in Ohio, but he didn't feel comfortable enough to test it out in the field yet. Usually he'd just let Sam handle it, but obviously that wasn't an option at the moment. He turned on his flashlight and started looking for the right page.

"Whoa hey buddy, aren't you at least curious about what I'm doing here?"

Dean looked up briefly, a little surprised by the question. "Uhh, not really." In fact he was a little curious, but he wasn't about to let this thing bait him.

He went ahead and started the exorcism. Frank's eyes flashed black and he grunted in pain, his body wracking with spasms the further along Dean read.

"I know who you are." the demon growled through clenched teeth. "You'll get yours, you and you're brother! One way or another...!"

The vehemence in his tone made Dean falter momentarily. "Doesn't look like that where I'm standing," he shot back, searching his book for where he left off.

"Doesn't matter what you do to me, there's plenty to take my place. Everyone's looking for Sam Winchester and his brother." Dean stopped again, the words coming at him like a slap in the face. He knew Lilith had a hit out on his brother, but to hear it straight up from some random demon made it that much more real. Frank could see his comment had the desired effect. "Ha, not so tough now," he panted, clearly enjoying Dean's shock. "But hey, Sam's the one everyone really wants. I'd suggest getting as far away from him as you can, if you wanna keep breathing."

_What? _"Shut the hell up." He was completely pissed now. _So much for not letting him get to me, _a voice in his head chided him. "I ain't taking advice from a piece of crap like you. You're done here. And tell your friends to stay the fuck away from my brother." He quickly resumed the exorcism, happy to hear his victim again moaning in pain. He was almost finished when he heard a sound at the door. Quickly, he glanced out the window, for the first time noticing the flashing lights of a police car. _Oh shit._

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The room was quiet and peaceful, but for some god awful reason Sam had woken up anyway and could not get back to sleep. Reluctantly he opened his eyes, still feeling very much like he got shit off a cliff. He sat up and looked around, slowly so as not to agitate his pounding headache. The first thing he noticed, besides the fact that he was alone again, was the brown paper bag sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. He reached over to look inside, and noticed a small note scrawled on the back of a receipt:

_Get some rest. Be back soon._

The handwriting was unmistakably Dean's. Inside the bag there was soup, crackers, sports drinks, medicine; all the stuff their dad use to get when he got sick. Sam smiled to himself. _Ah Dean, always gotta be the big brother. _The more he thought about it though, the more it depressed him. Once again big brother had to come to the rescue. Sam hated himself for being such a burden. It wasn't fair. Sam wanted so bad to save Dean for once, but apparently he can't even take care of himself, let alone keep his brother out of hell.

He sighed and decided the only thing he could do now was focus on getting well. _As usual._ So he cleaned himself up, determined to look presentable when his brother came back so he could stop worrying about him.

While he was feeling better after a shower and some food, he was concerned that Dean still wasn't back yet. It was already dark, he noticed worriedly.

_I hope he's all right._ What if his brother was in trouble? God knows the guy could find it just about anywhere. But what kind of trouble could he be in?

Right then a scary thought crossed his mind. What if Dean decided to finish the hunt without him? The scariest part of that was that it was probably true, and Sam wanted to kick himself for not realizing it earlier.

_Shit shit shit!_ This was bad. It may have seemed like a simple exorcism, but Sam had a few suspicions he never got a chance to share with his brother about this particular hunt, and if they were true then Dean would need his help, sick or not. Sam quickly grabbed his gear and set out to find his brother before it was too late.

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The rest of the exorcism began frantically spilling from his mouth at the sight of the police car, but it wasn't quick enough. A police officer was already heading for the house. _Oh well what's the worst that can happen? _he tried to reassure himself._ Not like I haven't been arrested before._ The door burst open and before he could even begin to explain he was pinned against the wall by a familiar, invisible force. Dean stared at the officer, completely stunned. Clearly he underestimated the severity of the situation. And unfortunately, he knew from experience that there was nothing he could do about it. Dean struggled against the hold anyway, angry at himself for allowing this to happen.

"Frank?" the police-officer-slash-demon asked as he took in the situation. Frank was still recovering from the almost successful exorcism, but Dean spotted the smug look forming on his face. Apparently the cavalry had arrived. And he was fucking screwed.

"Don't come close, it's a trap." At Frank's warning the officer stopped at the door. Dean didn't exactly expect the same trap to work twice, but damn it he wished it did. The lights suddenly flicked on and when he could open his eyes he found himself being scrutinized by a very young looking officer. He noticed the name tag on the uniform.

"Fresh out of the academy, 'Officer Campbell'?" Dean joked, trying to put himself at ease more than anything. Campbell frowned but said nothing, instead turned to face his partner in crime.

"So this is one of them?" A nod came in response. It was kind of cool being famous, besides the whole price on his head thing. But he was used to monsters wanting him dead. What he couldn't get was why he was still alive. The two were just talking, completely ignoring him. _If only I wasn't stuck to this freaking wall._

"Hey I'm still here you know," Dean complained loudly. No response. He was getting frustrated. Here he was, helpless and without back up or a way to escape, and the bastards didn't even have the decency to give him the time of day. "You gonna kill me or what?"

Finally, Campbell turned back to him, still frowning. Dean couldn't figure out what his game was. Certainly he should be dead by now. The demon came right up to his face and spoke. "I have a deal for you."

If the situation were less serious, he would be laughing at the absurdity of the statement. Nevertheless he grinned at the officer. "I think I've had my share of demon deals but thanks anyway."

"Yeah I know about your deal. Mine's better." Dean actually laughed at that. Campbell went on, unfazed. "It's simple. You give us your brother and we leave you alone. And by we, I mean all of us. Even your friend, the 'crossroads demon' as you call her."

"Heh, if even I thought you were telling the truth, you really think I'd give my brother up to a pair of jokers like you?"

"Well yeah. It's a good deal. Why should you have to die just because Lilith wants his head? "

"Just kill him already!" Frank piped up from his assigned spot on the floor. "We can find the boy on our own!"

"I agree with Frank there. You might as well just kill me. But you're not getting Sam."

Campbell glared at the two of them, clearly frustrated. "Of course we can find Sam on our own. But that's not the point. The point is you can get rid of your troublesome brother and get immunity! We'll even let you join us. Hasn't Sam caused you nothing but trouble since you've known him? It makes no sense for you to keep protecting him the way you do. How can you pass up this opportunity?"

"Maybe because I'm not an evil bottom feeder like you? I'm not giving him up."

"Oh come _on_! Being bad has its perks. And we can use someone like you on our side. What do you say?" Campbell smiled, releasing his hold on Dean just slightly.

Dean smiled sweetly in return. "Go fuck yourself."

Campbell's smile quickly turned into a disgusted grimace.

"Fine then! Have it your way you stupid human! You've now been downgraded to bait."


End file.
